


Resolute

by Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Dean's an idiot, F/M, dean's an ass, rated for future parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89/pseuds/Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89
Summary: When Dean says the wrong thing, you make a decision that could change your dynamic forever.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	Resolute

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a smut drabble but....whoops.

“Bite me, Winchester!” You stormed off down the hallway, flipping the older hunter the bird behind you as you went, grumbling under your breath.

“If you insist.” Dean's voice floated down the hall, cocksure and clear as a bell.

You halted outside your room, hand on the doorknob, and whipped your head to look at him. You felt your cheeks heat as he stared back at you, a smug smirk set on his plush lips.

“You...what?”

Dean sauntered slowly up to you, his green eyes darkening. He came to a stop in front of you, arms raising to cage you in against the door, his hands pressed to the wood on either side of your head. You let your hand fall to your side, barely remembering to breathe as you stared up at the flannel covered god looming over you.

“You heard me, princess.” Dean leaned close, his breath fanning over you, the hint of whiskey there somehow sweet. Fuck, why did you melt every time he called you that? “You've been acting like a real bitch ever since we got back from our last hunt, y/n.”

Just like that, your defenses were up. Who the hell did he think he was, cornering you like this just to berate you? He's the asshole who had spent the past three days flirting with every pretty face that passed by...the waitress at the diner, both of the witnesses you went to question together, not to mention the bartender last night. He'd spent most of the fucking week ignoring you or bossing you about, and  _ you _ were the bitch? No. Fuck that. You reached behind you, feeling for the doorknob once again. Glaring back at him to keep his attention, you turned the knob just enough to get it past the jamb and ducked under Dean's arms.

You watched as Dean stumbled forward and leaned against the door frame as he whirled around to face you, arms crossed over your chest. His eyes narrowed as he recovered, confusion growing on his face.

“Fuck you, Dean! I'm tired of this bullshit.” His eyes widened in shock as you yelled at him, Adam's Apple bobbing as he bit back whatever retort he had been about to issue. “I don't think I can do this anymore. One minute you're looking at me like you want to bend me over the nearest surface, and the next you're treating me like your kid sister. I've got fucking whiplash from how quickly you change from one to the other, and, fuck, Dean, I just  _ can't _ anymore. It's not fair to me.”

Dean gaped back at you, mouth opening and closing silently as he watched you cross the room to your closet. He watched as you pulled out your duffle and started pulling clothes from their hangers, hastily folding them and stuffing them in the bag. As you walked over to your drawer to retrieve your personal weapons, he finally shook himself out of his stupor.

“Y/n, wait.” His voice was shaky and uncertain; you stilled, your back still turned to him as you closed your eyes, fighting back the tears of anger and pain trying to push past your eyelashes. “I'm...I'm sorry.”

“No, Dean. I'm done waiting.” You gathered up your pistol and the Angel blade from the drawer, sliding the gun into your back pocket and bending down to slide the blade inside your boot, the hilt tucked snug between skin and leather. Pulling a few more things from the drawer, you tossed them in the duffle and zipped it up, the sound loud in the pressing silence, and tossed the bag over your shoulder. Dean reached for you, but you pushed past him, not giving yourself the chance to reconsider. “I need to go, Dean. It's not forever, I promise, but I can't be here right now. I think we both need some space for a while.”

You made your way through the bunker, the thud of Dean's boots sounding behind you as you crossed the library. Your heart clenched tighter with each step you took towards the garage, warring with your mind, begging you to turn around, return to your room.

“Y/n/n, please! Don't do this.” Dean's words stopped you from crossing that threshold, his voice wretched in your ears.

You took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. The way you felt right now, at this moment, was exactly why you  _ needed _ to leave. You needed to put some distance between the two of you, clear your head, let your heart mourn the loss of what you would never have; if you ever wanted to be able to continue hunting with the only people you considered family, to keep the best friend you had ever had, you needed to let go of any silly notions of Dean thinking of you the way you thought of him. The cycle had to be broken.

“This is what's best for both of us. I'll check in with Sam in a week or so. Goodbye, Dean.”

You stepped into the garage and let the door close behind you with a soft thud. Pulling your keys from your pocket, you climbed into your car, tossing your bag on the passenger seat. Your eyes flicked over to the door as you buckled your seat-belt, second thoughts causing your fingers to grip your key tight as it hovered near the ignition. Sighing, you slid the key in.

Just as you turned the ignition, in that split second before the purr of the engine filled your ears, you heard a muffled shout and the clatter of something heavy hitting the bunker floor. The sound echoed in your head as you sped down the highway, towns passing by in a blur. 


End file.
